Trinkets
by IvyShort
Summary: But maybe he wanted her to be his girlfriend after all. Raimundo-centric.


**I can never face my friends again. FMA was one thing. RWBY was another. Xiaolin Showdown is probably unforgivable.**

"Look, kid, I don't like this any more than you do, but Fung's got it in his head that he needs to talk to you now and for _whatever_ reason, he's too high and mighty to come get you himself."

"Jus' wait a sec, I'm comin'," Raimundo slurred, yawning. He was in no mood to hurry. No mood to do much of anything but sleep - they had been training since dawn and it had been a long time since the sun had gone down. Two years ago, he had commonly forced himself to stay awake until past midnight every night just to spite Master Fung, but he had learned from those mistakes. Sleep was precious.

He took his time on his way to the scroll room, hands in the pockets of his pajama pants. Halfway there, he realized he probably should have put on a shirt, but he didn't bother to turn back. It was nearly 11 o'clock. If Fung wanted a shirt, he could have met with him earlier in the evening.

"Ah, Raimundo. I'm glad you could join me."

"Didn't think I had much of a choice," Raimundo grumbled, sitting opposite Fung and pouring himself a cup of tea.

"You have been distracted lately, young monk," Fung said, looking at his pupil over the rim of his own cup, "Would you care to explain why?"

Raimundo shook his head and shrugged, swirling the tea and watching the steam rise as it settled down again, "I don't know what you're talking about. Nothing's been distracting me."

"You have not beaten Kimiko in a sparring match in several months."

He wondered briefly if the heat in his cheeks was from the tea, "She's really good, Master Fung. Omi and Clay lose to her all the time too."

Fung rose an eyebrow, "But not _every_ time. And you are certainly capable of besting Clay and Omi regularly. I do not mean to insult her skills, but the four of you have been quite evenly matched in the past."

"What can I say? She's just that good," he countered as casually as he could, waving his hand around in the air to distract from his extremely pink cheeks. He wasn't lying - Kimiko _was_ that good. Easily the best one on the team at hand-to-hand combat, and increasingly difficult to distract during a match over the last six months. Back in their younger days, he could taunt and dodge her long enough to tire her out and kick her off her feet, but lately, the closer he got to Kimiko, the more difficult it was to move.

"I see."

Raimundo couldn't tell how long they sat in silence. It felt like hours, but the backlight on his watch had been broken for months and he'd refused to let Kimiko meddle with it. Served him right. She could fix it in about a minute and a half if he would just let her. Some remnant of long-lost pride kept him from asking. He squinted at the face anyway, trying to make out the numbers in the dim lantern light of the scroll room.

"I have an important assignment for you to do, Dragon of the Wind. Alone."

Even Fung's face was laden with shadow. Raimundo couldn't see his expression - just blue eyes, narrowed slightly, staring at him through the gloom. _Alone?_ That couldn't be right. Fung didn't let any of them wash the dishes alone, nevermind important assignments.

"I want you to leave," Fung continued, taking a sip of tea as if he was asking Raimundo to brush his teeth before bed.

" _What?!"_

Fung seemed not to notice the hurricane that had suddenly blown half of the scrolls from their shelves. Raimundo's half-empty cup of tea was shattered on the ground, and the dragon himself was standing, breathing hard as he leaned over the table. Raimundo wasn't sure whether to punch something or cry. His voice was quieter when he spoke again, but instead of an angry shriek, it was a strained, betrayed plea.

"But I- You can't- _Please_ don't make me leave!"

"Relax, young one," Fung said, patting Raimundo's hand gently, "I do not want you to leave forever. I believe your distraction stems from something you refuse to dwell on. Time away from the temple and the stresses of your life here with bring it to the front of your mind."

"I'm not distracted! I'm fine!" he protested, his voice close to breaking, "How can I prove that to you?"

The older man shook his head, "You must trust me. I suggest a month away. It has been very trying to watch you struggle for the past few months."

"I haven't been struggling! You're talking nonsense, Fung-man! I can't leave for an entire month! I'll go kick Kimiko's butt right now if that's what you're so worried about!"

Never mind that he doubted he could beat Kimiko at all at this point. Now, it was him who was distracted easily during sparring, wondering what she used to smell like vanilla and lilac all the time and why her eyes were always sparkling and the way her robes hung off her petite figure like-

He forced himself back to the room he sat in, shaking his head to get rid of the girl in his head. It'd never work. They were teammates, and she probably thought of him as a brother. Besides, he didn't even know how exactly he felt about her. He probably just needed to get out more.

"Then you are deeper in denial than I initially believed," Fung continued, watching his pupil carefully lest his temper get the best of him, "This is not a reflection on your have done very well. Sit down, and I will explain the details to you."

Raimundo hesitated, lips pressed together tightly and hands curled into fists. He doubted knowing the details would make him any more willing to leave.

"A true leader knows when it is time to listen."

Ever so slowly, he returned to his seat, knuckles grasping the edge of the table so tightly that they became white. Fung seemed unperturbed by the entire outburst as he picked up one of the spare glasses next to the pot and poured Raimundo another cup of tea.

"You will have the Golden Tiger Claws with you while you are gone. Your task will be to figure out what you miss most during your time away, and why that is so. If you figure it out before the month is up, you are welcome to return if you wish. You are eighteen now, after all, and no longer obligated to stay here at the temple. I do not want you to feel as if I have forced you to remain here."

Fung reached behind him and handed Raimundo a backpack, "We will call you back should the need arise."

He took the backpack grudgingly, slinging it over his shoulder, "When do I leave?"

"Within the hour. The backpack has most of the necessities, but you're welcome to bring whatever will fit in the remaining space."

Raimundo shrugged and left the room without saying goodbye.

.

He went to San Fransisco first.

Something about the Golden Gate Bridge had always fascinated him, and standing on top of it only made it more intriguing. Rush hour set in soon after he arrived, making the little ant cars below clog and slow. The ghost of car horns made it to his ears, but he was, on the whole, alone with the seagulls.

He didn't stay long. Just enough time to scream at the top of his lungs and punch the railing. He didn't _care_ what he missed most about the temple. He just wanted to be back there.

Los Angeles was next.

Kimiko had practically swooned over a dress from one of her magazines the week before, shoving the tablet in his hands and bemoaning how it was only available in Los Angeles and _how was she ever going to convince Dojo to take her there?_ Fung had talked about an allowance in one of the pockets of his backpack - it would have been enough to feed and house him for the month, but he'd have to pull out some old circus tricks later if he wanted to buy Kimiko the dress.

He wandered the streets until he was suitably lost, but couldn't remember the name of the designer or even exactly what the dress looked like. It had been red, he knew that. Red and gold, like the sun. Like fire.

Like Kimiko.

He stumbled on the tiny boutique many hours later, after he had given up looking. The sun had long set on the city, and the last of the hunched over businessmen were dragging their feet home.

The two young saleswomen in the store had raised their eyebrows and blinked several times when he asked to buy the dress in the window display.

"We don't have any sizes big enough for you," one of them had said, looking up at him and shrugging apologetically, "Try the online store."

He felt his cheeks heat up as he shook his head violently, "Not for me! For my friend!"

"Oh! What size is she?" she exclaimed, shifting the bundle of clothing in her hands and handing it off to her coworker.

"Uh-" he stammered, realizing the gaping hole in his plan and putting his hand in the air about where the top of Kimiko's head was, "Tiny?"

The young woman nodded slowly, "About 5 feet tall? Do you know her measurements?"

"I can fit my hands around her waist? She's really little," he shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets.

The saleswoman nodded again, "Let me see what we have. Why don't you wait by the register?"

She walked toward the back of the store, leaving Raimundo alone in the middle of the brightly lit boutique. He was suddenly very aware of his ratty cargo shorts and his messy hair, and the way the other women in the store were stealing side glances as they looked through designer sweaters.

"Here it is! I'm sure your girlfriend will be over the moon. Is it her birthday?" the saleswoman said as she came back and rung up the dress.

"She's not, uh, she's just a friend," handing over a small stack of cash. He didn't meet her eyes as she smirked and rang him up, staring at the smooth black countertop as if his eyes could burn a hole in it, "She - she really wanted this dress, but couldn't make it out here to get it. I figured I'd surprise her."

"Uh-huh. If that's all it is, I'd like to have a friend like you."

It was the middle of the afternoon back at the temple, high time for chores and training. No one saw the solitary arm poke through the portal and drop a bag on the floor of Kimiko's room. She wouldn't rat him out - she was his best friend, after all. Best friends knew when to keep secrets.

The saleswoman's words rang in his head late into the night.

.

New York was next.

He was a city boy, through and through. Besides, he assured himself, he spent enough time holed up in the country. He didn't need to spend any more time admiring it than he already did.

Perched above Times Square, he fished out his sister's old set of balls and tossed them up in the air lazily. The money from Fung wouldn't last long. He had been more of an acrobatic act all those years ago, but when you grew up in the circus, you learned all kinds of tricks. A few hours, a few flips, and a little help from the wind to keep the balls in the air and he'd be much more comfortable.

He blew the cash the next day when he bought Kimiko new headphones.

(Hers had broken the week before and he was just looking out for her. Constantly listening to Omi and Clay jabber on without him to exchange side looks with must be hell.)

.

He went south after that, down to the coasts of South America. He didn't go home to Rio, but he had plenty of time to do that, and his mother didn't need to worry about another mouth to feed. Catching some waves in a kitschy little Brazilian coast town was good enough for him - and the street vendors that flocked to the beach were almost as good as Rio's. He bought a necklace before he realized he had his wallet out and shoved it into the bottom of his backpack. It was for his mother and he was certainly not thinking about how the light blue stones set into the silver sparkled like Kimiko's eyes when she smiled.

Not at all.

They were just friends.

.

Europe followed within a few days - they had gone many times to gather Wu, but the trips had always been brief. A scarf on one of the carts near the Eiffel Tower caught his eye, and it soon joined the necklace at the bottom of his bag.

He bought everyone tiny Eiffel Tower keychains instead and moved onto London.

,

It was two weeks into his trip before he realized it, sitting in a shoebox of a hotel room in Copenhagen trying to decipher the Danish dub of _Flight 29 Down._ He had reached into his backpack for the chips he had bought earlier that day and his fingers had grazed the cool metal of a necklace, sending a shiver up his spine for a reason he couldn't quite place.

Four presents. Four presents in a week - four presents before he had even thought of getting something for either Clay or Omi. He had only barely managed to hold off buying some bows earlier in the day after counting his money and realizing that the hair accessories would have to wait, so it was really five gifts. Five.

There was a pit in the bottom of his stomach as he looked again and the necklace and the scarf. He could practically hear Kimiko's voice already.

" _Rai, it's not like I'm your girlfriend or anything, you should have spent the money on stuff you'd like."_

Corbin Bleu started to yell on-screen, filling the room with foreign, jumpy sounds. Raimundo started to pace the tiny hotel room. Five steps to the window. Five steps to the door.

 _Maybe he wanted her to be his girlfriend._

There. He hadn't said it, but at least he'd finally let himself think it. He'd avoided dealing with the butterflies he got in his stomach whenever he saw Kimiko for long enough. It would make things too complicated. What if they broke up? What if it ended so terribly that she never wanted to see him again?

What if she wasn't interested in him at all?

The team was more important than how he felt. Their friendship was more important than the stupid grin he got on his face whenever she kissed his cheek after an especially difficult showdown.

But maybe it would all go right. Maybe she'd like him back.

Maybe, even if it didn't work out, he had to get it off his chest before he burst.

The sun set on Copenhagen, but he didn't sleep that night.

.

He bought the hairclips the next morning, stomach churning so badly that he thought he might throw up. It took a while to find a back alley empty enough to use the Tiger Claws, but he managed eventually, tumbling back into the temple gardens as ungracefully as possible, still clutching one of the hairbows in his other hand. This one was purple. Her favorite color.

"Raimundo! You have returned most early! Master Fung will not be appreciating how you disobeyed his orders!"

Raimundo was suddenly very glad that he hadn't gotten Omi a gift, waving off the younger monk as casually as he could with his heart pounding in his throat.

"Howdy there, Rai. You doin' alright? You're pale as Aunt Suzanne after a summer readin' romance novels," Clay chimed in, tipping his hat and chuckling a little at his teammate.

"I-I'll deal with Fung later, I gotta talk to Kimiko," Raimundo answered, looking up at Clay.

The cowboy tapped his finger against his cheek like he was thinking hard, but Raimundo had a hunch that Clay was just drawing out his misery as long as he could.

"She's in the scroll room, readin' up on some Shen Gong Wu."

He ran off as fast as his legs would carry him.

"Look's like you owe me two weeks of chores, partner," Clay commented, raising an eyebrow at Omi, "It took Rai a week just like I said it would."

"But you will be mistaken, friend! I will be the loudest laugher, for Master Fung will surely send Raimundo back to complete the next three weeks of his assignment!"

.

He burst into the scroll room, nearly running straight through the sliding door when it stuck at four inches open like it tended to when opened too quickly. Suave. Good start.

"Rai! You're back!" Kimiko exclaimed, standing up with a scroll still in her hand and grinning, "Are you sure you want to deal with Fung finding out? If you leave now he won't notice."

Her grin lowered into a smirk and she bit back a laugh halfway through the sentence.

"I don't care. I, uh, I had to talk to you about something," he stammered, shoving his hands into his pockets as Kimiko came closer and punched him lightly in the arm. The butterflies in his stomach seemed to wake up and dart around all of the sudden, and now he finally understood what they meant.

"Yeah?"

He opened his mouth only to discover he couldn't get the words out. He had spent all of his night in Copenhagen trying to figure out exactly what to say to her, and it was like the script had been torn up and thrown away. He tried again and everything tumbled out at once.

"I really think I like you in a more-than-a-friend kind of way and I don't want you to think you have to feel the same way because that's ridiculous but I had to get it off my chest before I went crazy and I think you're beautiful and smart and I should have gotten you flowers I'm sorry I can go do that really fast I'll be righ-"

She grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him down closer to her eye level. God, she was tiny. He knew he towered over her - especially since his most recent growth spurt had left him taller than Clay and a thousand times more gangly - but he didn't usually think about it. It was strange to face her eye to eye.

Kimiko hadn't let go of his shirt yet, but he couldn't figure out if the blush on her cheeks was natural or cosmetic. Excruciatingly slowly, she leaned in closer and closer until barely an inch separated their mouths.

"You moron," she muttered, shaking him a little bit, "You idiot, I can't believe you!"

He paled, looking to the side rather than into her eyes. There it was. He had made an idiot out of himself for no reason. She'd never respect him again.

"I can just go-"

She closed the gap between them when he tried to pull away, hopping up and down a little as she kissed him. It was chaste and sweet, and he pulled her closer and smiled through it, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her off the ground so that he could stand up straight.

Kimiko pulled away first, grinning from ear to ear, "About time."

"So...you like me too, then?"

She rolled her eyes and pushed him over in response.

 **Watch Xiaolin Showdown, they said. It's a fun show, they said. Welcome to hell, they said.**


End file.
